


the time i had with you

by sebbykurt



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, but not really?????????, but somehow turned kind of angsty???, it's rickyl at least so, there's that, this was supposed to be sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:57:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebbykurt/pseuds/sebbykurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logically, Rick is aware that the other man takes food very seriously, and that nothing about the way he eats every last bit has anything to do with sex, but still.  Does he have to curl his tongue like that?  And does he have to do it right where everyone can see—can watch and stare and gawk?  </p>
<p>Jealousy churns hot in the pit of Rick’s stomach, although he does his best to stomp it out.  They’re standing in the middle of the god damn apocalypse, for fuck’s sake.  He doesn’t have time to waste on boyish emotions.</p>
<p>But still…</p>
            </blockquote>





	the time i had with you

**Author's Note:**

> Just a handful of nonsense I've had rattling around in my brain for the past couple weeks. This started out as purely porn, but ended up being some vague porn with hints of ~feelings~. Carol's still in the picture because I honestly cannot imagine the way Daryl is going to handle her being gone, and I feel a lot better living in my little fantasy world where she never left in the first place...Enjoy!

At first, Rick thinks absolutely nothing of it.

It’s a good thing that Daryl is eating at all, let alone _how_ he’s eating it.  Rick is thankful, end of story.

That is, until he overhears a group of girls in the prison giggling and humming appreciatively at the older redneck.  Dinner passed a few hours ago, but Daryl is just now eating his serving, licking at his fingers without thinking twice about it, just like anybody would have done.  Rick himself never bothers to ponder over the way he eats, especially not lately.

“Look at that _tongue_ ,” one of the girls gushes, folding an extra blanket over her arm and adding it to the pile they have going.  “D’you ever see a tongue like that?  Even way back when?”

Eyes narrowing, it takes everything Rick has inside of him not to tell the woman to _mind her own god damn business, thank you._

But Daryl is still licking at his fingers, intently scraping at every last remaining centimeter of the messy meal.

Logically, Rick is aware that the other man takes food very seriously, and that nothing about the way he eats every last bit has anything to do with sex, but _still_.  Does he _have_ to curl his tongue like that?  And does he _have_ to do it right where everyone can see—can watch and _stare_ and **_gawk_**? 

Jealousy churns hot in the pit of Rick’s stomach, although he does his best to stomp it out.  They’re standing in the middle of the god damn _apocalypse_ , for fuck’s sake.  He doesn’t have time to waste on boyish emotions.

But _still_ …

“You’re being a little obvious there, Rick.” 

Rick is startled from his thoughts by Carol’s quietly assertive voice, her tiny frame sidling up against his own as she reaches over him for a half-full can of beans.  She winks as she pulls away, smiling to someone over his shoulder.

“I’m not—“

“It’s distracting, I know, but if you don’t want the whole damn prison to know about what you two do up in that watchtower when you think I’m not watching, you better keep your eyes and your _hands_ to yourself.  Watch your crotch, too, if ya know what’s good for you.”

Despite every attempt to seem larger than life in front of the people he’s supposed to lead, Rick can’t fight the rosy flush that covers his cheeks.

He glances again at Daryl, who has returned to eating with a spoon (thank God) and is quietly minding his own business.

But then he starts dragging the spoon past his lips, careful and _slow_ , and Rick has to leave before things get worse.

Carol laughs as he darts past her.

-x-

Daryl is washing his face when he hears footsteps sound across the concrete of their little makeshift bathroom.  He doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Rick.  Everyone else is asleep and, besides, he long ago committed the ex-officer’s steps to memory.  (He steps a little heavier with his left foot, a sound that echoed like gunshots back in the woods.)

Strong arms wrap around his waist, spinning him around and pressing him hard against the edge of the water basin.

Daryl smiles, all cocky confidence, but Rick’s face is serious, lips pulled straight and eyes focused like they always are when he’s on a mission.

“Everythin’ alright?” Daryl asks, letting slight concern bleed into the question.  He doesn’t often enjoy bringing anything more than playful emotion into their encounters in the dark, but he worries about Rick more than he likes to admit.

Expecting an answer, the other man is caught almost completely off-guard when Rick slams their mouths together, bruising him in ways that can’t be seen against flesh.  He twists his hands through Rick’s hair and tugs hard, pulling their mouths apart and sucking in a sharp, piercing breath.

It takes everything he has not to kiss Rick like he’ll die if he doesn’t, but something is obviously wrong, and he doesn’t want to be some sort of emotional rebound, even if he won’t ever say it out loud.

“Rick, tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on here.  We ain’t like this, touchin’ wherever we damn well please.  We got _rules_ for this thing, ‘member?”

Rick’s eyes darken, although with anger or lust, Daryl isn’t sure.  “Well, maybe we shouldn’t.  Maybe we should do whatever the hell we want, ‘cause you’re mine and I don’t like how everybody else is always watchin’ you, like you’re some sort of…”  He cuts himself off with a wide-eyed, frightened, soundless gasp.  “Daryl—“

“The fuck you mean, ‘ _yours_ ’?  I don’t belong to nobody here, Grimes, despite what ya seem to think—“

Rick pushes him harder against the basin, shoving until pain blooms across the spread of Daryl’s lower back.  “I just mean,” he whispers, dropping his mouth to brush against the shell of his ear.  “That I don’t like the idea of havin’ to _share_.”  He finishes it off with a slow, heated kiss to one of Daryl’s more sensitive spots, and Daryl shivers against him with little resistance; a fairly good sign, all things considered.

“You should hear the way the girls talk about you.”  Rick kisses a little further down, bringing one hand up to Daryl’s hair, gently tipping his chin back and nipping at the sweet, salty skin that lies beneath.  “And, _God_ , Daryl, you always have your fingers in your damn mouth or _somethin’_ that makes me wanna jump you right in the middle of everythin’, just to show all these idiots who you’ll _actually_ be screwing when it all comes down to it.”

He’s mostly rambling now, feeling possessive and light-headed and completely just _fucked_.  Daryl’s body is lean and trembling beneath him, and he knows it’s taking all the other man has not to reverse their roles—not to demand control like he so often does.

One of Daryl’s hands lands confidently on his hip, and then they’re somehow kissing again, only Daryl kisses back and _God_ can he kiss.

Rick thinks of the way those girls giggled and he kisses harder.

Hands are tugging at stubborn buttons and this is a _reallyreally_ bad idea but Rick can’t shake the thought of losing Daryl to a _girl_ out of his head, and Daryl silently demands that Rick knows he won’t ever do that— _ever_. 

_“Bend over,”_ Rick hisses, his voice sounding venomous and sugary all at once, floating like a shadowy reassurance through the darkness.

_You’re mine.  I’ll take care of you.  I’m yours, too, and I’ll let you take care of me.  Mine, mine, mine.  Yours.  Always yours._

“In a bit of a rush, eh, Grimes?”  Daryl can’t help but to be a bit of a tease.  They might not have a lot of time, but they have more than they _did_ , and so he wastes a little of it whenever he feels like he might say something he’ll end up regretting later like ‘ _I love you’_ or ‘ _I need you, please don’t ever leave me’_.

“Dammit, Daryl, just…”

“Alright, _alright_...”

And Rick feels so _good_.  He knows what he’s doing and Daryl never thought to question it, but he hopes he’s better than anything Rick’s ever had, because then maybe he’ll stick around for a little while longer.

(Maybe he’ll be the one to put the bullet through Daryl’s skull if the shit ever hits the fan one day.)

Rick folds his stomach over Daryl’s back, blowing warm puffs of hair across the nape of his neck.  He slams his eyes shut and moves his hips in time with the ragged breaths that flow so fluidly past Daryl’s lips, like he can’t stand to practice self-control when Rick’s holding him like this, _fucking_ him like this.

Rick chants Daryl’s name and even though Daryl doesn’t say his in turn, he knows that Daryl is right where he belongs, battling their demons together as their minds falter between a place of endless sorrow and a place of endless bliss.

And to think, it all started with Daryl’s fucking _tongue_.

They come with spectacular screams, blocked by fumbling hands as they remember last-minute that they aren’t alone anymore; this isn’t their watchtower in the middle of the night with nothing but the groan of distant walkers to keep them company.

Rick kisses the line of Daryl’s spine before pulling back, tugging at his jeans and watching Daryl’s hands as he does the same.

“What are we doin’ here, Daryl?” Rick asks, because he doesn’t have anything better to say and he can’t say _‘I love you’_ if he doesn’t want to lose a few teeth.   Besides, there’s no room for that here.  Not now, and definitely not with them.

Maggie and Glenn can be the prison’s happy ending.

Rick and Daryl are just…

_Rick and Daryl._

Daryl stares at the floor, but he’s grinning and Rick feels a little better, because this is what they _do_. 

“I ain’t yer damn sex slave, if that’s what yer gettin’ at,” he jokes, turning to rinse his hands in the bin.  He lets the water run and stops it with a small laugh, feeling better than he has all day.  He can feel Rick smiling at his ass.

“We should clean up,” Rick suggests, thinking again of Daryl’s tongue and how it looked curled around his own finger.  “And then maybe we should head back up to the tower.  Just to be safe.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agrees, nodding for emphasis.  “Just to be safe.”

 


End file.
